


Out of Oblivion

by DraconicTempest



Category: Kingdom Hearts, Naruto, Original Work, Out Of Oblivion, Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed, 転生したらスライムだった件 - 伏瀬 | Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken | Regarding Reincarnated to Slime - Fuse
Genre: Aliases, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Blood and Violence, Characters as Aliases, Dark, Death, Dimension Travel, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I have no Idea if the quality is going up or down anymore, Kurama just doesn't give a shit anymore, Mercenaries, No Beta, No defined villain, Original Universe, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reincarnation, Reworked Characters, Self-Insert, Shapeshifting, Sort Of, Talking Animals, The Author Regrets Nothing, Trust me it'll make sense, Very very dark, Younger characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2019-11-15 04:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18066332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraconicTempest/pseuds/DraconicTempest
Summary: Once alive, once dead. This is his second time around in a world that seems to taunt him at every turn. From characters, his faded memory brings to familiarity, to his very body he inhabits. Daunting and haunting, this place won't let him forget. Not after his duty is fulfilled, not after this world is set right again. No, not until those tasks are done is he allowed to return to Oblivion, to the place where all weary souls rest."If you really thought I would bend after a harsh childhood," a snarling voice echoes into the void beyond him, "You are gravely mistaken."Something laughs in response, a ghost compared to this mortal's stolen flesh and blood."I know," A sympathetic voice says, her hand running through the large cat's snow frosted fur, wet under her thin fingers, "I miss my friends too. I wish they were here."Something growls at her existence as if its net hadn't caught the big fish lurking under the boat. Like a crumbled idea that missed the bucket. A missed mistake.Elsewhere, a lifetime, a universe away, a playlist is set to shuffle, its music echoing out in empty hallways. No one is there to listen to a dead man's soul.





	1. A Thought Like No Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All ends have a beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 3/31/19: Added a drawing

**Prologue**

<>

Fickle thing like no other,

Like cheating death from another.

A dart through void and time,

To pierce the world at its prime.

To bind me in a place with a thousand ties,

To be the maker of my own disguise.

I sweep my life from the cave,

An into a snowy, early grave.

~A wandering traveller

<>

A hassle. That’s what I call being reborn into a world where your strength is determined at birth. The skills you acquired along the way do not count; you’d be called a thief by the cave and thrown out. I’ve seen it happen to many hatchlings, thrown into the freezing cold mountain top to die. Once the boulder rolled away and the snow blew in, nipping at your body and scratching at your eyes, it was over. You’d die in less than a day, frozen stiff and a chilled spectacle to travellers.

A cave of dragons. Of fire dragons, whose affinity for the element is legendary. Chaotic and strict, the screeching and howls of pain from the prison I pass by every day makes me want to leave this rotten hell hole.

I know what was happening in there; they pit ‘petty’ humanoids against their nameless pet fire wolves. The acrid smell of burning flesh never clears from the air in the torchlit corridors, the ash and blood stains never coming off the stone as well, staining grey rock red.

Claws click on the rock behind me, the empty halls repeating the sound endlessly. I know who it is, as they are the only ones to approach me because of my status as the outsider’s adoptive son. The orphaned royal dragon that promoted him to Lord.

I hated it.

I look behind me to see two large dragons walking up to me, one with glowing, lava-like face markings that set her apart as a royal. I had them too, though I never boasted about it, and neither does she.

She was twice my size, boasting thin, long wings and a rounded muzzle. Her horns curled around her ears like a ram’s, off white in colour and clean as can be. Her claws are webbed, stretched thin between lithe toes; ‘one of those damn hybrids’ my father would call them. Half leviathan, half fire dragon. Quietly shunned for those things, ridiculed for being a half-blood.

She puts a claw on my head, blue eyes shining under her blue mane of fur. She seems to have picked up on my distress.

The other, a burly brown common with sharp features stands beside me and heaves me onto his back. Three times my size; a servant rock dragon. Wide wings and umber plating plastered with years of grime that had just begun chipped off. We could spend hours cleaning him and get nowhere.

I stick my snout into his mane of thick, soft, brown fur, the scent of ash wafting into my nose. They must’ve put him to work in the heart of the volcano again. To get the most of out him before he is freed.

They start talking in hushed voices. It’s about the exam, by the serious tone of their words. Royals getting promoted to Lords and Ladies and servants gaining freedom either way; death or civilian status. She and I always wanted for him to get himself out of this mess, but back then it was just small talk. Now was the real thing.

“You’ll be cheering for me, right?” He asks, turning his head to the side to see me on his back, straight ivory horns and sharp blue eyes glinting in the weak torchlight. I give him a weak smile, still gripping to his fur with my talons.

“Of course,” I reply quietly, “This is what we’ve wanted for a long time.”

He smiles back up at me and she gives me another pat on the head.

“Come on,” She says, slowing down as we neared another corridor, this one decorated with burning incenses and overflowing with smoke. “Father would be angry if we are late tomorrow.”

I nod and slip off of him, sticking the landing and trotting up to her.

“Good night, Terra,” She waves him off as he heads to the servant quarters. His hollow steps ring out after him.

“After you,” She says, turning to me.

We head off deeper into the corridor. I tell Aqua goodbye as her cave comes first. I walk alone into mine, the cold stone floor growing frostier by the minute.

I bare it until the very end, tossing myself onto the rocky mat I called a bed. Tomorrow would be another day. Just another day of mockery and torture. I can hear the rocks pelting my hide already.

A joy to be me, isn’t it? A joy to be trapped in such a mighty and familiar place, yet weak and alien at the same time.

****


	2. Children Like The Land and Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what this new year shall bring to our fine specimen. Something unpredictable, I hope. Let's hope he does not fall about too quickly. I'd hate to replace him so soon.

#  **Chapter 1**

For thirty years I wandered here,

Cold and alone with fear.

Away from hell, from friend and foe,

Into a life from which I chose.

Fleeting dream that forms my life,

Guilt shaping like a carving knife.

~A wandering traveller

<>

I watch the parched, sandy yellow ground, heat haze warping and blurring the cracked dirt. The sun beat down on us, high in the noon sky and without obstruction. 

Mercy in Mentela's Barren Lands wasn’t a thing. Here, like the scarce animals, it was kill or be killed. The native sentient races follow this rule as well; all barbaric fools. 

“Are we there yet~?” A black wolf-like creature moans, gold eyes closing as the packs on her back shifts around, metallic screaming striking across the barren wasteland.

“Oi, oi, oi, Bellows!” The one I’m riding scolds, his dark crimson fur slick with sweat and speckled with white sand, “That’s the fiftieth time! We’re not there yet!”

“It’s actually just a few kilometres away,” I tell them, wiping the sweat off my cheek and adjusting the hood I have over my head. Bellows immediately perks up, her tail wagging vigorously behind her. “I’m sure if you-”

“ **Skill: Shadow Travel!** ” She barks happily, jumping up despite the luggage strapped to her back. Her body looms over us as my mount starts shrieking colourful insults. I merely smile, knowing better than to argue with the hound when she was like this.

Bellows’ body explodes into shadowy tendrils, wrapping around us like a thick woollen cloth and cutting off all the desert light and heat. Numbness pricked at my skin and scales, the shadows swallowing me whole, storing me in the back of its metaphorical throat. We move, yet didn’t. The feeling of gravity and air ripping against me is familiar, though alien at the same time.

Then it all peels away, the inky shadows receding like a withering flame, revealing a leafy green forest and an obstructed sun. A cool wind whistles through the foliage, live critters scuttling underfoot. 

A city towers overhead with its medieval buildings too tall to be real. The rusted iron gate stood a ways ahead of us, flanked by armoured guards, their plate mail shining with polished steel, spear tips glistening in the high sun.

A blob of shadow rips itself away from the silhouette of a tree before Bellows pops out of it, grinning stupidly. 

She’s young, only ten years of age, so I have no right to hate her.

Furnace, on the other hand, can. He huffs, stomping around to face the smaller one, his red eyes blazing with disapproval. He snarls and says,

“You stupid numbskull!” He shouts into Bellow’s ear, “You could’ve lost yourself to the void! Never do that again unless you’re extremely prepared!!!”

“...yes sir,” Bellows whimpers, hanging her head in apology. He hits the crown of her head for additional effect.

“Come on, Furnace,” I say, trying to calm him down, “We should drop off all that junk of Bellows before she collapses.”

“Why should I care?” He counters, sitting his butt down and almost dumping me onto the ground. I twist the reins around my hands to stop my descent, hauling myself upright on his slanted back. “While I’ll admit she’s a good pack horse,” “HEY,” “All she’s been doing is essentially whining.”

“Then would you like to carry some?” I ask neutrality, 

Furnace looks back at me, his eyes wide with stress and fear. Then it all disappeared in a flash.

“Humph,” He huffs, turning away in embarrassment, “When are we going in?”

“Yeah, when are we going to dump this steel junk off my back?” Bellows chips in with a slight tilt of her large, furry head. The leather packs on her back producing horrid scraping sound as she moves.

“Mmmm,” I hum, thrumming my fingers on the side of my jaw in thought. “Now.”

“Now?” Bellows questioned, tilting her head further to the side, much to Furnace’s dismay.

“Yes,” I say, sliding off of the hellhound’s back and landing onto the ground. Stomping on the grassy ground, I lament how much I missed real grass from before. 

Lifting my head a bit, I crack my knuckles and start with a technique. A simple one, the first I learned from my teacher.

‘ _ Illusionary Technique: Minor Form Cloak _ ,’ 

“Seriously?” Furnace growls in disgust, looking down at me, a snarl playing on his lips. “A human? Do you understand how  _ inferior _ they are?”

“Yes, I do in fact know,” I roll my eyes, “Makes a good disguise too. I’m not looking for any work in this city.”

I unbuckle my belt with sword sheaths, wrapping them up and tucking them between the belt and body of Furnace’s saddle. I then flip up one of the several pouches on Bellows’ pack, slipping out several papers. 

“Come on, let’s go,” I say, walking up to Furnace and grabbing hold of his reins. He snorts but says nothing as he trails behind me like an obedient pack horse. Bellows yips in excitement, tailing Furnace closely as she tries to move ahead.

We move off onto the main, grey, cobbled path, worn with age and soiled with dried mud tracks. No one else is on it, just us and the jiggle of metal in the background. It’s quite a nice change from all the bloodshed I usually see.

I wordlessly pass off the papers to the left guard, he passes them back and signals the gate workers to open up. The rusted grid gate slowly creaks up, a high screeching noise filling my ears. I take a smidge of effort to not wince from the ear-gouging sound. The reinforced wooden double doors crack open, just big enough for us to pass through.

We pass through, not giving either guard a second glance, and enter the bustling city of Deravicas. Part of the Tyecalias Kingdom, which is renown for the Summoners it produces, their link to the Ethereal realm and their impressive relationships with the spirits that reside within that realm.

The city itself was lively, the infrastructure medieval in nature. Stone bricks, wood and plaster created the abnormally tall buildings. Brightly coloured flowers lined glass windows with open shutters. Children played on the stone path and shops lined the main street. In the sky, a single hawk spirals in the air above us.

“Why a twelve-year-old?” Bellows wonders aloud. Furnace shoves his tail into her mouth.

“Do not question Master,” He growls, his eyes closed in frustration. “Only I get to, you blind, rat-brained idiot.”

“So I don’t have to expend a lot of mana,” I answer, pulling him along the crowded streets. Bellows hums in understanding, even though she probably doesn’t know what I mean.

A billboard stands at the edge of a cafe, multiple pages overlapping, some advertisements, others looking for mercenaries to hire.

“Hey!” Bellows barks excitedly, approaching the billboard and putting a paw on one of the papers. It’s a job offer; just another pompous royal looking for expendables. “It’s you!”

“I’ve told you; I’m not looking for a job in this city,” I say, “Just a place to rest and restock.”

Bellows frowns, but nods and moves away from the board.

We find a blacksmith that accepted scrap metal, removing most of the luggage Bellows carried, much to her relief.

“Freedom!” She howls, scaring the smith out of his wits as her tail slaps the ground behind her with tremendous force. The equipment in the back

“Shut up,” Furnace growls, slapping her upside the head. Her tail pounding ceases as she pouts, holding her head down under her paws.

“A-anyways…” I cough, “How much is that for?”

He wordlessly handed me my cash and shooed me out of his shop into the obscure, dark alleyway. Garbage hospitality.

“Hmm,” I count the brass coins in my hand, “Two hundred and thirty cil. Not bad.”

“Bellows and I will search for a suitable suite for our stay here,” Furnace states abruptly, his eyes looking left and right even though there wasn’t anyone there, “This will allow you time for other activities.”

He barely picks Bellows up by the scruff, leaving in an instant with the use of his skills, a cloud of dust whipped up by the teleportation. It flies into my eyes, forcing me to rub it out.

‘ _ Well, no arguing with Furnace today… _ ’ I sigh, letting my hand fall to my side, ‘ _ Damn, he took my blades too… _ ’

I grumble, shoving my hands into my pockets and moving into the street. I had my hooded cloak, a few instant seals and the single knife in my leather gauntlet that was made for skinning purposes. 

I adjusted my pauldron and tightened the strap of it, walking out of shadows and into the sunny streets. There seemed to be more children here, playing ball or Knights or some other roleplay I wasn’t aware of.

I walk down the road, looking at the merchandise and other wears the vendors sold. A row of Merchants gather on the streets, some from past the Wemlanca Empire, one that traveled the Concordian Marshlands and crossed Mentela's Barren Lands unscathed. Most hire mercenaries to protect them when they do so however, so nothing special there. Meaningless casualties; that’s what dead mercenaries are called. Highly coveted, but never given the recognition they deserved.

People ignore me here, a thankful thing due to my illusion and most people don’t take a second look at me before moving on. They walk past me, as if I wasn’t some war hero. Not that I cared, anyways.

“Come get your daily news!” One news seller hollers, “New, headline: End of the Seven Year War! One thousand soldiers dead by the Kyuubi no Yoko! The Wemlancain surrender! We claim victory!”

I drop five cil into the jar and take one, rolling it up and tucking it under an arm. I want to see what they wrote about me.

The sun dropped past the towering buildings, the orange hue taking over the blue, setting the sparse clouds alight in the sky with washed, warm colours. Night fell slowly in the midst of summer, the stars only flickering to life a few hours after Furnace voluntarily went to search for a suite.

I had stopped in front of a small, rundown orphanage when the hound returned. He slithered out of an alleyway, rising out of a shadow and into the oil light. His harness was gone, undone with help.

“Where’s Bellows?” I ask, looking up at the creaking sign above the wooden door.  Morgana’s Shelter for Orphans . I generic name for a generic looking place. The cracked brick, the ivy clinging to the walls, the chalk on the cobble. The rust smell that seeps out of the cracked walls.

“She’s resting in the suite I found,” He sniffles, “Illusion Skills-Sorry, Illusion techniques are quite useful in the long run. Your sensei sure knew what he was doing.”

“Mmm, I wouldn’t say that,” I say, following him back into the dark alley. It smelt of blood and soot. Several snapped floorboards lay strewn around on the grimy floor, crimson stains rubbed in their textures. Organic trash rot here, bones of past meals and dead pets.

I grip Furnace’s thick fur and we were gone in an instant, arriving before a brightly decorated suite.  Folager’s . Furnace passes me the keys with his mouth and we enter the establishment wordlessly. 

Armed travellers, ‘famous’ mercs, and honourable heroes and heroines filled up the bar lobby, drinking the night away. Mages, Summoners, Tamers, etc. They paid me no heed as I ascended up the steps. Perhaps they were too drunk to notice a supposed twelve-year-old enter the building.

The room Furnace rented was on the third floor, and true to his word, Bellows was there already, spread eagle on the silk covers and pack discarded on the carpeted floor. She was snoring away, oblivious to our arrival.

“Let her sleep,” I commanded Furnace just as he went to yell at her. He gives me a side eye before moving off into the corner, curling up and putting his head on his outstretched paws.

“What did you see in that orphanage?” Furnace suddenly asks after a moment of silence.

“What do you mean?” I blink, sitting down on the bed and unbuckling my armour.

“You clearly saw something in that bloody place,” He huffs, “You don’t stop for nothing.”

“...” I look away, letting the question fall apart on its own. He is soon asleep, his eyes completely closed with perked ears, swivelling around warily.

I sit alone for a minute. Then I blow out the fire and slump over on Bellows’ furry back, releasing the illusion and falling to sleep.

<>

“These people have high standards,” Furnace huffs, breathing over my right shoulder while Bellows did the same with my left.

“I didn’t know this place was so big on platinum!” Bellows barks, constantly shifting in her place on the floor. “I could eat-”

“Even if you set a limit, you’ll overeat,” I put plainly, sitting down cross-legged on the wooden floor. 

I wore a plain, tan, linen shirt with brown cotton pants. My swords lay in their sheaths on the ground in front of me, metal parts shining in the morning sun.

“That is why I settle for gold,” Furnace says snidely, “It doesn’t empty our cash as fast as platinum.”

“And your combined tastes is why I just buy obscene amounts of silver for you two,” I say, rolling my eyes and flipping to the next page in the paper.

It’s about cruelty within the city, mostly orphanages being more like slave centres than shelters for parentless children. That explains the blood and soot in the alleyway.

“Sick bastards burning children,” Furnace snarls righteously. “Even I know when enough is enough.”

“The poor kids…” Bellows whimpers, covering her eyes. “Is that why you stopped at that orphanage?”

I say nothing, moving my thumb across the page. Something something dragonblood, something something hunted. Demi-humans the main target of some church or religion, nothing I’ve never seen before.

“I get the distinct sense you’re going to do something foolish. Whatever it is, I am against it,” He growls, putting a paw on my head, between my horns and bony frills.

“I just want to retire~” Bellows pouts, flopping down onto the floor.

“We can’t do that,” I sigh, folding up the paper and throwing it aside, “The cash we got from the service will only pay for half a year, a month if we be reckless with it.”

“What’s the longest then?” She asks, peeking through the gaps between her appendages.

“A little less then a year,” I shrug, “If we’re optimistic.”

“I’m realistic, and that won’t work,” Furnace snorts, a grin tugging at his lips as he pats me on the head.

Bellows stays on the ground, rolling around and covering the carpet with hellhound hairs. I pity the maid who has to clean this mess up. It’s a pain to clean something that burns you when you touch it.

I take out a coin from my pocket, a gold thing with a dragon stamped on the front and a phoenix on the back.

“Drake or Eagle?” I ask.

“Eagle!” 

“Drake.”

I flick the coin, watching in flip in mid-air. Its caught in the palm of my head.

“Eagle,” I announce. 

“Yes!” Bellows cheers, bounding towards me and rubbing her face on my cheek. Furnace is sulking in the corner, muttering something like ‘I knew this day was coming…’.

She settles down enough for me to toss the saddle over her, the harness belts draping loosely on her body. I buckle them up, tugging to make sure that they were secure.

I turn to Furnace, Bellows dancing behind me. I swear she has flowers floating around her as I say,

“Furnace, it’s inevitable. Let’s make this fast.”

It’s a struggle putting the pack on a squirming, pony-sized canine. Sometimes the back carriage tipped to the side, others it’s just Furnace being too prideful for his own good.

“I swear,” He growls, panting as I tug on the final strap, “When we are retired and pulling carts, YOU will be the sole dragger and I will be doing nothing!”

“You’re only fifty three,” I chuckle, buckling my sword belt and checking my pauldron, “She’s ten. She’s going to outlive you fifty fold.”

“I resent that, Master,” He growls, the scar on his left eye wrinkling as he stomps out the door, the stairs screaming in disapproval.

“Good one!” Bellows snorts as we exit the room. Other warriors were getting out as well, expensive gilding and fine silk covering every inch of their armour. They raise an brow at my statcure, as if they were expecting more from a high caliber merc like me.

I say nothing, catching up the old, scarred hound at the entrance. I hold a list before him, letting him read it over. He flicks his eyes up at me and asks,

“That all?”

“If you can find a better quality chokutō, I’ll allow you to buy it,” I produce a sack of coins and a slip of paper with my title on it, which I place between his teeth. Taking the two items, Furnace bows respectfully before slinking out of the bar.

“Soooooo,” Bellows drags, “What about me?”

“We’re going back to that orphanage,” I say, walking out into the street for the first time without a illusion cloak.

People stare now, whispers and rumour weaving themselves to life immediately. I hop on Bellows, who is much nimbler the Furnace but has a low endurance, and jump head first into a shadowed wall, popping out into a dingy alleyway.

“Why are we here?” Bellows asks me, tilting her head up, “Don’t tell me...You found someone  _ special _ ~”

“No,” I rub my eyes, “I...I just want to do something… different.”

“Well, you’re no flirter, that’s for sure,” She laughs, padding out into the sunlight.

“It’s been forty four years,” I groan, “Face it, I’m never getting a love life.”

“Hey!” Bellows giggles, “It’s only forty four years. You’ll get one in at least a hundred.”

We continue to banter, half my mind is split on the children playing on the road. Some sat in the corner, their limbs beaten blue and black, scars lining fraile skin. Others run around and frolic despite their scars, something I envy.

“Ack!” A kid runs right into the pillar that is Bellows’ leg, “Sorry!”

“No harm done, pup,” She giggles, raising up a paw and placing it on the kid’s messy, brown hair. He’s not as scared as the other kids; favourite of the caretaker?

“Hey!” He laughs, batting away the paw, “Wow! It’s so soft!”

“Hehehehe,” Bellows giggles, shaking from being tickled in the foot. I hop off onto the ground before she could fall over, intoxicated from pure, undiluted tickling. She’s shaking, and I can’t tell if it’s a good thing or not.

“Will she be be ok?” The boy asks sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“She’ll be fine,” I assure him, trotting up beside him to watch Bellows calm down, “So, what’s your name?” An innocent question.

“It’s Sora, mister!” He cheerfully states, oblivious to my shock. He’s oddly familiar in ways I can’t explain. Maybe it’s part of my past, the part I forgot.

“Call me...Kurama,” I tell him, not using my real name. Awe glitters in his eyes, smile wide as can be on his little face.

“You’re that hero I keep hearing about!” He shouts, drawing attention to us. I pay the onlookers no heed, feeling them shrug and move on. “The one that goes ‘Wham!’ and a thousand bad guys go away!”

“You can call it that,” I say, smiling. 

Bellows puts a paw out, trying to reach some unseen force, before slumping back down onto the ground, drooling.

Sora’s smile turns into a skeptical frown. He looks guarded all of a sudden.

“But the news says Kura was this huge fox that...uh,” He stops, can’t quite finding the right words.

“Blocked out the sun?” I fill in for him.

“Yeah! But you’re just some dragon guy,” He huffs.

Someone else approaches us. I lift my head to see two kids, both of them I know well from my past. Just not in this fashion.

“Sora,” The silver haired kid says, stopping in front of the sky child, “Kurama is known for his illusion skills. Think before you speak.”

Oh? That was a new one.

“Yeah, come on, bro,” The blond kid says, lightly punching Sora’s arm, “I thought you were better than that.”

I walk away from the trio for a minute, taking the time to heave Bellows to her feet. I pat the dirt and dust off her furry coat, her body still sleepy and prone to tipping over.

“Hey, hey,” I snap in front of her unfocused gold eyes. When she didn’t respond, no doubt lost in her dream world, I closed my eyes and resorted to drastic measures.

I jab her in the throat, which snaps her out of it, despite the horrible retching noise she makes as she sucks in air. I pat her neck as the sound subsides. Simple, yet terribly effective.

“I’m fine, I...am good,” She coughs, licking her lips, “I really am.”

“I believe you,” I sigh. It’s hard to hate her.

“Oi, kids!” A gravelly woman’s voice crosses the road, the sound of iron boots tracking their way to our location. Bellows tenses, seemly already attached to Sora, her fangs on the brink of reveal. “I told you; no talking to strangers!”

It’s an elderly woman dressed in vivid blue, a heavy scent of flowery perfume washing into my nose and hammering a migraine into my head. Her iron toed boots stomp their way over to the terrified looking trio. She takes a look at me and gasps, shielding them from me.

“Especially from  _ him _ ,” She growls, whipping out a card from inside the folds of her shirt. “Go back unless you want a longer beating.”

The people on the streets pay no heed to this  _ animalistic  _ behaviour, walking right by as if this was a common occurrence. Or they were punished if they said or did anything about it. The bribed ignorance was the tainted blood of this city.

Sora shoots me an apologetic glance from behind the old human lady before running off with the others, the frightened look on his face never leaving.

“I won’t let you taint my children with those  _ dreams _ of the world; it’ll only get them killed!” She spits, her bullet vapourizing in mid-air from Bellows’ glare, “What good are they when they’re  _ dead _ !?”

I sigh, mounting onto Bellows. Patting her twice, I tell the blinded woman,

“At least they’ll be living a fuller life.” And we sink into the ground, the noon sun bearing down on us as our shadow blinks out existence.

We appear next to Furnace, who was looking at blades, and scared the living ghost out of the shopkeeper. If a hellhound buying things wasn’t enough for her day.

“Ah, perfect timing,” He hums, lifting his head. An unsheathed blade lay before him, high quality steel by the looks alone. “I was thinking of getting this one. High grade steel made by a fire lizard with a wrought iron core. Good enough?”

“Yes,” I nod, “How long did you rent the suite?”

“Two days,” Furnace replies, watching carefully as the shopkeeper gingerly picked up the blade and sheath and took them to the counter. “Is something wrong?”

“Add a hound cart and a few blankets to the list,” I tell him.

“What!? Why?” He sputters, unready for the additions, “We’ll be using over half our cash for those!”

“You’ll see,” I tell him before patting Bellows three times and vanishing into shadow again with an outraged hound shouting at me.

We’re back in the suite, lunch on the bedside table with two food bowls on the ground stacked with silver filling mixed with ground beef. Bellows gently takes her bowl and carefully walks out of the room to leave me to my thoughts. Smart girl. She knows I’m not exactly stable right now.

The food stays untouched for the rest of daylight, cooling on the nightstand.

<>

“Are you sure about this?” Furnace asks gravely, trotting back and forth in front of me, “This isn’t a terribly good plan. The next town is at least two weeks travel from here.”

“I know that,” I tell him, poking at the meat in the plate. I set my fork down and turn to look out the window, the cloudless night sky starless from all the human influence. 

“That is why we should do this tomorrow night. The security will be lower and you will have more energy to pull it off,” Furnace continues, sitting down.

“One day to the next. You’ve seen the newspaper for today, right?” I ask out of the blue.

“O-of course, sir,” He stutters, blinking rapidly in confusion, “Lord Atlas is turning a blind eye to the slavery in orphanages, correct?”

“It’s only a rumour, but if I do this, it’ll blow it sky high and Mister King will have to step down after four years up on his high chair,” I growl, pushing dinner aside a little too forcefully. “I hope you understand why I don’t like this city, Furnace.”

He hesitates for a split second before dipping his head down respectfully before moving to the door, blocking it with a sleeping Bellows. He shots me a worrying glance as he sets his head down.

I scribble a circle on a slip of paper ripped off the corner of a letter, biting my thumb and leaving a drop of blood in the center. I slide it between the foot of the lamp and the nightstand before I crack open the window, the cool night breeze entering the stuffy room.

“ **Race Skill: Body Shifting** ,” I quietly growl, feeling the shirt on my back loosen and fall into a heap on the floor. I land on the ground with all fours, the window now high above my head. I spin around in my spot to familiarize myself to this form, then leap out the open meshless window.

I race across the tiled roofs, the fur coating my skin fighting off the cold and the claws gripping at the texture of the surface that flew past ever so quickly. The wind whips against me and the biting, dry air scraping my eyes. I squint to minimize the pain and forge on forwards.

I spring up to a higher roof, catching the edge and scrambling up. I can smell kids now, the blood and soot that accompanied the scent had a twist of perfume with it. I could see the house now in the dim moonlight, the lights off except for one in the attic, flicking like candle light.

I gracefully leap down onto the street, spooking a retiring man and leaping into an alley. There, I clambered up a drain pipe and back onto the roofs, darting towards the orphanage.

I squeeze my furry body into a crack between the roof and the outer wall, into a corner of the attic. I could hear shuffling noises in the room next to me, growing ever louder.

I duck under the pristine oak bed, watching feet stomp in and out of the room, grumbling about stupid children or something of the like. It passes as fast as it came.

Leaving the safety of the bed, I sneak around and find the stairs, sliding down the railing and into the a hallway of doors. The sound of moving cloths in the rooms makes me tense before I remember who was in their.

I stick my thin snout into the crack at the bottom of each door, looking for a scent vaguely similar to the ash and grime smelling Sora.

Approaching a vent, I press my ear against the cold steel grill. A boiler vibrates through it, a faint whimpering accompanying the thundering tin can.

I crawl closer to the vent, the freezing grill threatening to split the soft skin of my ear into strips. The whimpering fades in and out as the heater kicks in, a new rumbling mess in the back.

‘ _ Basement… _ ’ I whip my head around, checking for other movement on this floor. Nothing in sight moved, just creaking floorboards and shuffling feet from upstairs.

I spot the descending stairs, quickly scampering over and sliding down the railing. I weave through the mess of books and other miscellaneous garbage lying around, odd clumps of ore hidden in the rubbish. 

‘ _ I should watch my size now… _ ’ I grimace, the ground feeling more unstable than ever.

The carpet under me has been shifted around, the line of dust and off coloured floor giving it away. I strip it away quietly, the expected trap door now in full sight. I pry it open, pulling out the circular handle out and up with my jaws. It crashes against the wall, scaring me out of my wits.

I tense up, listening intently for anything stomping down the stairs. To my relief, everyone is either too scared or asleep like a rock to care.

I jump down into the basement, meeting face to face with the boiler, the heater adjacent to it. There’s a vent on the ceiling next to it. The kid was probably on the other side of the boiler and heater, most likely tied up and gagged.

I round the corner, the only light source was from a tiny crack in the ceiling corner. It was enough to see there was more than just one child down here.

Three bodies lay still, propped up against the wire link fence of a mine shaft elevator. One gagged, all bound and beaten.

“Crazy bastards…” I mutter, sounding off from the long muzzle and thin throat.

It’s enough to grab the attention of them, turquoise eyes glittering in distress. He’s trying to shift away from me but can’t do to the course rope he is bound in. I can see the rope burn and unrelated ugly red scars lining his arms.

I leap onto him and shoosh at him.

“Okay, kiddo,” I say in a hushed voice, “You want to get out?”

He nods, and if he had more strength, vigorously. Instead, it’s just a shift of head position.

“Okay, good,” I look around before turning back to him and snap at his face. He tries to dodge, but I get the cloth anyways, tearing it off his face.

I toss it away onto the floor as he starts coughing through his teeth. The others don’t seem to be gagged in any sort of way, oddly enough.

“Now stay quiet; I don’t want to blow this,” I tell him, hopping off and turning him around to get at the knots of his rope. It’s too thick to bit through, so the only option was to burn through it.

I latch onto the rope with my mouth, preparing a breath attack, the sparks jumping out of my throat catching the twine alight. I release my jaw from it, watching as it burns precariously close to the boy’s skin. As soon as it burns through the rope, I rip the rope off the child, tossing the burning twine away from us.

I go through the other kids’ ropes as well, the blond and the brunette in a comatose-like state. 

“Why are you helping us?” The silver-haired kid asks, shoving away the burning ropes. His eyes are cautious of me, squinting oddly enough. It take me a moment to realize that he can’t see what I look like in this dim light, even with the flaming ropes.

“I have my reasons,” I shrug in the light. 

“Who are you?” He asks instead, sounding frustrated at my last answer.

I heave Sora onto my back, shifting under his weight before moving towards the ladder. The silver one drags the blond over as well, seemingly in acknowledgement of my movements. “I’m asking a question, mister!”

“Shhhhhhhhh,” I hiss immediately, pointing upwards. He recoils, flinching as if he was expecting something.

Frowning, I try to think of what these ‘caretakers’ did to them.

In the end, I shake it off and leap to the ground floor, turning around to make sure the kid did the same. I watch as he painstakingly pulls the blond up with him up the ladder, eventually making it.

Then, I make a break for the front door, seeing Furnace and Bellows had already strapped themselves into the cart. Their on the road with no one else in sight, the older hound staring at the door intently.

Silver makes it and I, in a hasty decision, ram the door open with a resounding crash, the sound of someone stumbling out of bed barely audible. I could hear children crying out in alarm, wailing sounds from the upper floor. 

Furnace unclips himself, leaps over and takes Sora from my back. Bellows simply picks up the other two children with her mouth and shoves them into the cloth roofed cart along with Sora .

I stand at the doorway as the hellhounds reclip their harnesses onto the cart and drag them away into the night.

Someone starts yelling at nothing, clambering down the stairs to the bottom floor with a short dagger in hand. Seems like card games weren’t enough for this time.

“Who the fuc-” She stops mid sentence, staring at my furry form with confusion painted on her face. She doesn’t look out the window in her sorry state. A shame, she could’ve seen her prized workers getting carted away.

I grin at her frozen form, white teeth shining, before gracefully leaping out the open door, following the rattling cart into the cloudless night. 

I could see the stars now, glittering ever so brightly on that curtain of deep indigo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New summary, a calmer attitude now that it's not eleven at night and not a spur of the moment decision. Oh, have fun deciding what everything means. I'll just sit over here and listen to some Lion King songs.  
> All poems come from this noggin, and any corrections and questions are welcome. It's four pm right here, in this space of nothingness. It's quite dreary if I have to complain about it.  
> Thank you for reading my disgusting brain trash... It's amazing you're still here.


	3. These Worlds We Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little cold shouldn't stop a fire beast. But is he one? Hehe, maybe.

#  Chapter 2

 

<>

The spiked peaks of Erelos Mountains,

Coated in snow and wolven encounters.

People live on wit and strength,

With steel courage in high depth.

There I found my teacher there,

Chained in shackles and in despair.

There he howled ‘free me please!

I will do whatever you decree!’

~A wandering traveller

 

I wonder with all my mind,

What this world was in time.

If a blizzard were to breeze,

From snowy peaks to tropic trees.

Would it murder the warm blood?

Or kill the crops or berry shrubs?

~A wandering traveller

<>

Abnormal weather patterns were common before my eventual rebirth. One second it could be a sunny spring day, then it would be snowing again, the white water plastering themselves to everything under the sky. Summers would be cool like fall, and fall itself wouldn’t happen. 

But we had heated and air conditioned homes so extreme weather wasn’t a really big issue. It was just the matter of waiting it out.

But here, in a place like this with technology so primitive and monsters like hellhounds controlling the population growth, it wasn’t expected. Smoke from fires wasn’t enough for a sudden climate change like this, with snow nipping at our faces and covering every inch in sight.

“Be glad I got a cart with a slanted, triangle roof or we would be walking against the wind!” Furnace yelled above the howling blizzard wind as he pulled the cart along. Bellows huffs and opens her mouth, catching a clump of snow in her jaw as she tries to yell back at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” I groan, tugging at my makeshift scarf as the reflected light bombards my eyes. The path we were on was only visible by the straight clearing it creates, everything else was white with frost or snow.

“Have the pups gotten up yet?” Bellows asks curiously, turning her head around. The snow was steaming off her coat, turned to mist at a touch.

“I was going to go check,” I shrug, “But that frost wolf was bothering me. Those usually don’t come all the way down here.”

“Someone must’a pissed off the blizzard phoenix up there,” Furnace growls, trudging forwards through thick snow, “No respect for the ancients.”

“It’s the age of science and technology; spiritual energy doesn’t cut it anymore,” I say sympaticialy. I hear the faint shuffling of cloth and muffled yelp under the undying frosty winds; someone was awake now. 

“You should check now,” Furnace says, chuckling as I roll my eyes.

I duck down and pull a cloth over my head, covering up the seat of the cart and cutting off the inside from the outside. Turning around, I untie another cloth. Pulling it away, I enter the main part of the cart.

‘ _ Now I know why this bloody thing cost so much… _ ’ I groan, standing upright and peeling away my cloth scarf. If I was any taller, I would have to bend over to stand. The back of the cart was higher up, thankfully, and around ten metres away from me.

The wooden floor was covered in blankets; quilts, fleece, even leather hinds lay strewn around.

Sora and the blond kid were still on the ground, swaddled like a baby in warm blankets. Silver, on the other hand, sat upright and was glaring daggers at me. 

“Awake?” I ask, sitting down on the makeshift carpet floor. He moves from his spot at the back and shifts in front of the two boys.

“...Yes,” He replies, looking defensive as he sits back down. “Who’re you? Where’s the fox?”

“You already know who I am,” I quip, recalling our first meeting, “The fox on the other hand...I’m sure you can figure that out.”

Silver squirms around uncomfortably, stretching the quilts and blankets on the floor with his uncover feet. 

I look at Sora and Gold, both looking peaceful in the slumber, and realizing how atrocious their clothing was. Civilian clothes, ripped and muddied. They weren’t made to last.

“So,” I start, “What’s your name?”

He stiffens at the question, his eyes flickering to the two behind him for a split second. His eyes return to me, hesitating. Shifting around uncomfortably, he says,

“Riku,” His mouth stays open, catching my attention.

“So, Riku,” I lace my fingers together and supporting elbows on my knees, “Do you have a last name?”

He winces and looks away, his jaw tightening as he balls up the blanket in his hands. I narrow my eyes as he continues to struggle with himself, beads of sweat starting to form despite the cool air around us.

‘ _ He’s resisting… _ ’ I think, unfocusing on the sight before me, ‘ _ I haven’t seen such a Branding like this one… Removing or overwriting it are my only options, or trackers will surely have my head. _ ’

“It’s,” He starts, shivering as he struggles with himself.

“Mm,” I swiftly move over and cover his mouth, “I don’t need to hear it, just write it down.” I produce a fountain pen and a slip of paper from a pouch, holding it out for him to take.

Riku’s small face relaxes as he shakes himself out of the stress my question gave him, taking the ink filled fountain pen and slip of paper out of my hand. He uncovers the wooden floor and places the paper there, writing the last name down with his right hand. After he finishes, he checks the liquid before handing me back the two items then pulling the fleece blanket higher on his body.

What I thought to be scribbles was elegant cursive,  _ Riku Recolrio _ . He even wrote his name down in the same style.

‘ _ Isn’t this wonderful, _ ’ I muse, sitting back down as Riku watches me wearily.

I put my thumb in my mouth, biting down and drawing blood. Rubbing the sticky liquid with my thumb and forefinger. Taking the slip of paper, I draw a streak of blood on the last name, crossing it out. Unexpectedly, the crimson streak burns away in a flash of red, dried flakes drifting in the air.

“And this becomes a thousand times more difficult,” I grumble, rubbing the side of my head with the heel of my wrist, “Crazy old coot. Where did they get such a high grade Brand anyways?”

“What...what do you want with us!?” Riku suddenly demands, shouting at the end. My attention snaps to him in a second, half my mind ordering me to  _ kill the ambusher _ .

I can hear snorting from outside as I shake the feeling off. Someone seems to be relishing in my agony.

“Nothing,” I huff, being careful as not to fold the paper, “I’ll tell you thing; there’s another big city two week from here. I’m going to drop you three off their and that’ll be it of my involvement. What you do after then is your choice, got it?”

He nods a little too quickly for my liking, the two of falling into silence after that.

I sigh, looking down at my blood coated finger, then to the slip of paper. Bounty hunters were a pain to deal with, so I overwrote the last name with my own. It negated themselves, both names burning off the page, leaving only blood flake imprint.

The sound of a cord snapping could be heard, along with the noise of a crackling fire. The paper burns to cinder in my fingers, the ash not lingering long.

‘ _ Nothing beats draconian blood, not even high grade bullshit, _ ’ I snort, turning around and crawling into the airlock between the outside and the inside. Pulling down the cloth behind me, I poke my head out from under the taut cloth. Furnace, hearing me, turns around and snorts, holding in a full blown laugh.

“What?” I hiss from under the cloth.

“It’s just, huhuhhhhh,” He snorts, desperately trying to retain his composure, “You-you, hhhuhhhh.”

“Let me translate for mister big and mighty here,” Bellows quips, smirking at me, “Ahem...He’s saying you look stupid with your head squished between the sheet and the cart.”

I blink.

“I-I did not!” Furnace splutters indignantly, “I was merely…”

“Insulting your  _ master _ ,” Bellows jokingly finishes for him, “Your sin will  _ NEVER  _ be forgiven, Sir Furnace.”

“What???” He whips his head around to look at Bellows, “Nononononononono-”

“Bellows is joking,” I blatantly tell him, Bellows shooting me a exaggerated glare, “You’ve been around her for ten years. Surely you can see that?”

“A-ah, ahem,” Furnace coughs, falling back into step with Bellows, “O-of course. I must be going senile...”

“Sure~ ya big wuss,” She teases, earning her a side eye glare from Furnace, gold eyes flickering.

We continue on the path, catching glimpses of off white blurs in the forest deep. Animals not in their winter coats wander around in the deep snow, freezing without thicker fur. Their colours stand out brightly in the pure white of everything else. Poachers must be having the time of their lives now.

Ransacked carts soon appear along the path, overturned and peppered with icicles. Claw marks, snapped wood and the like tore the wooden caravan to shreds. Nothing moved, just bodies and splinters laying on the ground, half covered in red snow.

I swing myself over the edge of the cart, landing knee high in snow.I wade over to a single overturned merchant cart.

One body lay on the ground beside it, along with some horse corpses. Mutilated beyond all recognition, covering the snow with his blood. A shame really, something good could’ve come from a man so young.

Grabbing him by the hem of his silk robe, I drag him away from the cart, tossing him into the forest. I didn’t have the time to give him a burial, much less waste mana on a cremation.

The interior of the cart was untouched by bandits, which was a curiosity in itself. Seems like the poor sap was a clothes merchant, flowery patterned cloth and finely woven cotton and silk lay in a chaotic heap on the side, now bottom, of the cart. Already sewn clothes sat in the back, frozen sideways on the roof. An empty water bottle is culprit, ice stuck to the side of the interior.

I step over the material rolls, gathering the hanging garments before leaving the cart to scavengers. 

Furnace takes a sniff before asking,

“What are those for?”

“Kids,” I tell him plainly, crawling headfirst back into the cart.

“Leave it to you to be half scavenger and half merc at the same time,” He half-snorts, half-laughs as I disappear into the cart. “I didn’t know you cared so much either!”

I huff, ignoring his last sentence, tumbling into the interior of the cart with my chin firmly planted in the wood. It felt like someone kicked my teeth in before slamming their knee into my chin. I could taste the iron in my blood as I experimentally lick the inside of my mouth.

“Hey, mister Kura,” I peel back an eyelid, the face of a child filling my vision, “Are you okay?”

“Just peachy,” I groan, rolling onto my back. I lay spread eagle on the blanketed the floor, shoving the garments off of my chest. I feel a light tap on my chest, then a yelp of surprise.

“You’re not allowed to help strange people, Sora!” Gold says, pulling Sora back.

“But he didn’t do anything!” He shouts back, turning around to face Gold, “He kinda warm.”

“The lizardman is just transporting us to the next city,” Riku says, walking up to Sora with a tense look on his face, “That’s it.”

‘ _ Do lizardman have horns, prick? _ ’ I huff, sitting up. 

“What’s ‘transport’ mean, Riku?” Sora asks, looking confused. God, I didn’t know they weren’t prodigies; this makes things so much more difficult.

“Its means moving from one place to another,” Riku replies, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I look around, spotting Gold standing in the far corner, glaring holes at me. Impressionable children, what would the deities do without them? Feeding off their prayers like parasites.

“So,” I cough, grabbing the bickering children’s attention, “Care to write down your full names?”

I produce two slips of paper and a fountain pen. Two hesitant pairs of eyes settled on it. I could smell the sweat already. The fear so thick in the field of war, a curtain on your mind and a rope around your throat.

Half of me thrived on it. The other? Let’s say it shriveled a little more each time.

<>

I tossed a blanket over the sleeping forms of the children, piled together in the middle of the cart snoring away daylight. Furnace and Bellows trudged forwards, the blizzard dying away as we went.

“Those frost wolves are starting to bother me,” I tell Furnace, glancing momentarily into the woods.

“They don’t smell like frost wolves,” Furnace warns, “More like...hounds. Blizzard hounds…”

“Hmm,” I furrow my brows, fighting back a wave of nausea, “That’s not good.”

“Tell me about it,” Bellows whines, “I don’t wanna fight wolves~”

“It’s not a job, so we have no reason to fight them,” I tell her, “Unless they strike first, that is.”

A rabbit hops out of the snow, diving in and out of the white substance like a dolphin in the sea. 

We fall silent, the sound of wind and crunching snow filling my ears. The usual crow’s caw is faint, the threat of an ambush ever present. Yet, I am somehow lost in my past. It’s faded, but it's there all the same. Here in this world, things feel familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time.

“Lost in your past again, eh?” Furnace asks after a while.

I look up, my eyes refocusing on his face. 

“Yeah,” I admit, vision drifting over to a sleepwalking Bellows. She’s snoring away in the freezing cold, eyes closed as she aimlessly walks forward.

He snorts, turning his head back to the front. Sound soon fills the area, taking me a second to realize it’s Furnace who’s making it, humming a tone I taught him long ago when I first found him bleeding away into a pool of rainwater.

_ How long, baby, have I been away? _

_ Oh, it feels like ages but you say it’s only days. _

_ There ain’t no language for the things I see, yeah. _

_ And the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams, _

_ The truth is stranger than all my dreams, _

_ Oh, the darkness got a hold on me. _

Bellows woke up at some point along the way, joining in on the voiceless song.

_ I have seen what the darkness does, _

_ Say goodbye to who I was. _

_ I ain't never been away so long, _

_ Don't look back, them days are gone. _

_ Follow me into the endless night, _

_ I can bring your fears to life. _

_ Show me yours and I'll show you mine, _

_ Meet me in the woods tonight. _

“You sure have strange music tastes,” I say, sinking down in the cubbyhole I was in. 

“Says man that taught us it,” Furnace snarks. Bellows sticks her tongue out at me, inciting a smirk from me.

“You should try singing sometime,” Bellows suggests, looking thoughtfully at the grey, clouded sky.

“Or you could,” I reflect back at her, the remark making her turn away in embarrassment.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh,” She frets. I can tell she’s blushing under her fur, “No, I couldn’t possibly-”

“So,” Furnace says, ignoring the rambling Bellows, “What are we to do at Fenachce Square?”

“Drop kids off, then sell everything extra and maybe take a job,” I shrug, “There’s a lot of those floating around after a war. But it’s still two weeks away, so I wouldn’t worry about too much right now.”

“Hm,” He hums thoughtfully, glancing back at me, “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.”

“It sure is cold out here.”

Sora’s head pops out from under the thick, padded cloth, shivering in the freezing air. His teeth start chattering in no time, mist forming in front of him with every breath.

“You should’ve put some clothes on,” I huff in annoyance, “Or at least bring out a blanket; there’s plenty of those laying around.”

“Heheheh,” He shivers, “I-I-I f-forgot.”

I sigh, unclipping my cloak and throwing it over him. He sags into the warm cloth, practically falling asleep.

Silver pops up a minute later, cloaked in a fleece blanket and sniffling in the cold. Gold appears soon after, a blanket over his body as well.

Soon, the other two, finding my scales warm, huddled against me and snoozed away. Roxas held claim to my lap while Silver just stuck with the other side.

Night soon came, the clouds still masking the sky in a depressing grey. A light speckling of snow fell, steaming away on both hellhound’s backs. Nothing moves except us, unsettlingly quiet like a No Man’s Land. Or a desert full of survival based bloodshed.

“We’ll keep moving,” Furnace tells me, his voice quiet as a whisper, “You take the pups into the cart.”

“...Alright,” I nod, slowly slipping down into the interior, bringing the three kids with me.

I drop off each kid in a corner, draping a blanket over each of them. I slump down onto the ground, a book between my fingers and sleep nowhere near my mind.

<>

“Do you know magic, mister Kura?” Sora asks the next day, fingering a playing card.

“No, not any magic, I’m afraid,” I hum, taking the card from him and placing it back into the deck. “Skills and Techniques are a different story, however.”

“What’s a Technique?” Riku asks after a second, looking up from a discarded journal of mine. I would have to hide them, don’t I?

“Think of it like a Skill, but you learn it instead,” I explain, slipping the deck into its sleeve, “Like with Magic, but without the tattoos...”

“Cool~” Sora says in complete awe, “Can you teach me some?”

“Ah,” I click my tongue, “Sorry, can’t do that.”

“Come on, please?” He begs, putting his hands onto my knee, “Even if it’s really small?”

“Look, kid, I’m not going to-”

“Please, mister Kura?” Oh, no. He’s pouting, his eyes wide as he pleads.

I sigh, scanning around to see another two eager faces practically glowing. I look away and rub my temples as Sora pouts in my lap. These kids are too adorable for their own good.

“Fine,” I grumble, falling victim to their collective cuteness. I can hear Silver mutter a simple ‘Yes!’ and Roxas quietly cheering in the background. “But just one, and it’s just a trick.”

“A trick?” Sora tilts his head as the other two approach me.

“It means a small technique that is extremely easy to learn and control,” I say, poking his nose gently. I gather a small amount of mana, or chakra as my sensei calls it, into my hands, watching it bubble a brilliant orange in my palm. A small fire crackles to life within the bubble, eating away at the orange.

“Woah~” Sora raises his hand and pokes at the bubble, watching it wobble at the touch. “It’s so cool!” He squeals as I drop it in his hands.

“It’s a Fire Release Technique called Lantern,” I tell him, watching as he jiggles around the bubble contained flame whilst it illuminated the dim cart interior.

“Here, Riku,” Sora turns to his friend, passing the lantern to him. He hesitantly took the Technique into his hands. 

“Something wrong, kit?” I ask, the words falling out of my mouth without my consent. 

Riku flinches, the bubble jiggling in response. The little flame flickers inside the orange orb, dancing on its own merit.

“Mother usually doesn’t let us touch magical items or use spells,” He admits, poking the bubble, “So...I’m not really used to this freedom.”

Roxas sneakily swipes the Lantern from Riku, who doesn’t fight back.

I put a hand on his shoulder, the muscles twitching underneath.

“You should get used to it soon, then” I grimly tell him, seeing the uncertainty dance within his eyes, “It’s a merciless world out there. Your friends will need you to lead them.”

“Uh, so,” I break eye contact with Riku, who immediately relaxes under my hand, though not as much as I would like. I turn away from him, releasing my grip on his shoulder.

Sora is holding his hands splayed out in front of him with a confused look on his face, “How do I do this?”

“For starters,” I sigh, turning around and gently taking his hands into my own, “We’ll start with the hand seals. Those shouldn’t be too hard.”

It was.

<>

Furnace stops at the edge of town, right under the welcome sign erected over the road we walked on. He shifts around uncomfortably, looking left and right constantly.

I track his movements, seeing that there wasn’t any people outside. With the biting wind and all, I couldn’t blame them.

“Something wrong?” I ask him, leaning down to his ear.

“It’s...dark,” He growls, shrinking down, “You better be careful.”

I slid off the saddle, my hand landing on one of my sword’s handles. I dip my head, pulling my cloak’s hood over my horns and onto my head. 

I give Furnace a reassuring pat on the side before I walk down the main road of the town, the snow loud under my taloned feet. There were no tracks in the fresh snow and the doors were unlocked.

I twist the fraile knob of the town’s market, my hand never leaving the handle of my double-edged blade. 

Inside was dark and musty, old rotting wood and freezing cold air. 

I wipe off the rust on my hand.

‘ _ Fire Release: Draconic Fire Pillar, _ ’ I inhale, breathing out a fiery staff, illuminating the rickety, old shop. 

Dust whips up by the sudden appearance of hot air, flying around like a vengeful spirit. It continues to swirl around me as I walk forwards, the staff blazing in front of me.

The shelves are lined with decade old books and canned goods, yellow pages lay scattered on the floor, bouncing in the heat of my fire as though they gained life. 

The stone tiles under my feet click from my nails as I made my way to the back of the shop, the darkness evading my light. Silence was deafening in a place like this, filling your chest with nothing but anxiety and fear, every step was a death sentence without a real execution.

I half expected to see a skeleton slumped over on the cashier’s desk, moth eaten cloth draped over the remains. Instead, no one was there, just a messy pile of cil on the counter and some cans of food, label already stripped from the lead surface.

Leaving the cil alone, I leap over the counter and open the back room’s door, another cloud of dust billowing out of it.

A weapon’s shed, stacked with rusted metal unrecognizable as real blades. A blacksmith’s tragedy.

A brass coloured glint catches my eye, beckoning me with its eye-catching sheen.

I shove away the rusty metal in front of where the shine came from with my hand, atrocious screeching sounds filling the once silent market with screams. Swords, axes and mighty warhammers made way for a single claymore, the only weapon without a single speck of rust clinging to its steel.

‘ _ Some high ranking fool’s sword, no doubt, _ ’ I grumble, ‘ _ Too much money and no appreciation for the arts. _ ’

I rub the dust out of the intricate carvings in the shining brass guard. The more I looked at it, the odd qualities the claymore had. Soon, it looked less like a claymore and more like a wider rapier with a simpler, heavier guard that stretched to two sides. The guard was probably just steel with brass scrubbed on, but the lack of nicks and scratches made it impossible to tell.

_ Thunk _ . Something falls from the ceiling.

My left hand immediately latches itself onto the great-blade’s pommel as I spin around, the momentum bringing the two-handed sword around to strike a humanoid neck. 

It crashes through bone instead.

“Shit!” The pillar of fire goes out as my concentration breaks, darkness bathing the place. Sometimes I miss my night vision.

Bones rattle and clatter in the darkness, clinking against the limestone tile. My breath and ivory flashes appear before me, a cluster of white skirting around in the darkness.

My grip on the blade handle tightens, the leather of my gauntlets keeping me from splitting the calloused skin of my palm.

“ **Skill: Ablaze!** ” Mana comes alive under my skin, funneling into the handle of the two-handed sword and setting the blade alight with warm fire, the surrounding around coming to view.

A mishmash of humanoid bones stood before me, four legs on the ground, five arms flailing about and a torso of discarded, broken bones of unidentifiable nature. Spine pieces, rib cages, tiny little finger bones, all shoved into a round-ish shape. Stained to hell and back with blood, flesh still clinging to the white ivory.

And it moves with startling speed.

It whips me with an arm, grinding against the edge of the sword. I force it away with a forward swing of the greatsword, ducking down and swing the blade in front of me, looping a leg around an earthbound limb. 

It crashes hard to my left as one of its supporting limbs is pulled off from the main body, exploding to dust.

In a swift follow up, a slanted cut straight through the monster’s torso. The top half slides forwards as the legs topple backwards, the cut deadly clean and smouldering with glowing embers.

I backstep to avoid getting crushed, fishing out a paper Brand out a pouch.

Its top half scrambles towards me, all five arms paddling in midair to reach me.

I slap the tag onto a clawing limb, freezing it before it turns to dust before my eyes. The ash is smouldering, drifting away in the stale wind.

My eyes land on the other half of the monster as it flops onto the floor, immobile.

I walk up to it, kneeling down and Branding it. It crumbles to dust right under my hand straight afterwards, black flames following the white powder into the atmosphere.

I stand back up, dusting my cloak off before stalking back towards the entrance, blade out in front of me, like a guiding flame spirit. The dust that clung to the walls and floors is all gone, the shop unnaturally clean.

‘ _ Dust made devils… _ ’ I think, cutting off the mana flow to extingustion the flame that flickers on the blade.

I step out the doorway, the greatsword balanced on my armoured shoulder. My feet crunches on fresh snow as I slowly walk out of this ghost town. Just as quiet as it’s ever been.

Furnace is waiting were I left him, looking relieved at my reappearance. He shakes his large furry head, the snow that gathered falling off like an ash plume.

Shifting the sword on my shoulder, I walk up and pat him on the forehead. I move to his side and mount him, expertly gliding onto his back.

“You can call Bellows now,” I tell him, turning us around so our backs faced the deserted town, “This place is clear to cross.”

Furnace turns his head, giving me a slight nod, before raising his head and howling into the still air.

Bellows howls back, relieving any tension on Furnace’s face. The cart and the hound soon come into view, quietly rumbling behind her. 

We wait until we are parallel with the cart, allowing me to hop off his back and onto the ground. I take a minute to hook him onto the cart, tugging the ropes to check my knots. I give him a final pat on the head before jumping into the cart’s cockpit.

Ducking into the interior, I find the kids sprawled around the floor and covering it with their sleeping bodies. I snort at the sight before picking up a blanket and wrapping the pristine greatsword with it. I place it in a corner, away from the children.

The cart gently lurches forwards, squeaking and rumbling over the lumpy surface of packed snow.

Moving some blankets, I uncover the firepit in the middle of the cart, stacked with half-charred wood. I move my face right next to a piece, gnashing my teeth for a spark to form. It’s enough to set it alight, a fire slowly warming the cart interior.

The smoke follows the upwards slanting ceiling and out the back of the cart. The crackle of a fire, the rumble of the cart, the lost howls of wolves.

I hum, amused by the quietness.

Day two, still no trackers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know? I'm not dead if that wants you're worried about. I've been doing a lot of fandom hopping these past few days, so this might be just a side project for a while. AKA, slower updates until I get on a specific fandom again. If I force it out of myself, it usually reads like flaming hot shit.  
> So bear with me here. It's not dead.


	4. Hounds Are Upon Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tracker trackers. Adorable aren't they? Chasing around pests like rabid dogs with no care for the living. I wonder if prey can become predator.

#  Chapter 3

 

 

These dogs that chase me through and through,

This hounds of war follow true.

And in this hellish place I find,

Someone who has been sent farther in time.

-Translated by a reincarnate

 

Tyrant dragon, lonesome wolf,

Screaming lord of phoenix folk.

In this kingdom of endless pain,

Is there anyone here ever sane?

Of black, of blue and radiant red,

The buildings that on the skies tread.

Rules of three, of five, of six,

Lords of iron will and wish.

Here they watch their people roam,

Below a great, gathering storm.

~A wandering traveller

<>

 

I’m the first up. Awaken at the sun’s first light. There's howling all around us, faint but present. It uneases me.

Looking at my chest, I see Sky lying asleep on me. Gold and Silver are on one side of me, pressed against me like we’re a tin of sardines. I’m...not that warm… am I?

Pulling my arm out from under Silver, I slowly shift Sky off of me, sliding out from under the children. Using only my arms, I heave myself upright, leaving my legs trapped.

Now in a sitting position, I see that Furnace and Bellows had also climbed into the cart. Bellows had positioned herself in a log pose, Furnace laying right on top of her. He seems to be trapped in an eternal nightmare, shuttering occasionally in his sleep. Bellows just seems to be revelling in the free massage he’s giving her.

I roll my eyes before picking up a nearby blanket to throw over the kids. After completely sliding out from under the pile and with the quilt in place over them, I crawl over to Furnace.

I rub his forehead, reassuring his safety. His shaking slows, then ceases, his head slumping to the side and his once disturbed expression fading.

Giving a final pat on the head, I step over him and grab my things. Throwing my cloak over my shoulders and strapping my sheathed swords to my waist before slipping out the back of the cart.

Landing into the freezing snow, I regret not wrapping my feet in bandages first. The heat from my toes is immediately whisked away as I walk out into the woods.

We had stopped in the middle of the road, in a clearing void of snow in the center. Too bad the cart practically covered it all up.

Passing the treeline, I can hear the howling of distance beasts. The day is bright despite the grey clouds, and the snow unblemished by tracks. So it’s white on white as far as I can see, broken up by the still leafed trees that are caked with ice.

Trudging forwards with the snow over my knees, I see small sparrows and their hatchlings in their nests on the soft snow, frozen to death by the sudden blizzard. Cardinals and other colourful fowl littered the ground, their bodies missing pieces and feathers plastered with blood. 

I pluck a few clean ones off; the long flight feathers of the blue jay being a personal favourite. I pull out a short length of leather string, tying all the feathers, long and short, together before fastening that to my cloak clasp.

The farther I go, the less sky I see. Here, under the tallest trees, frost wolves skirt at earshot. In fact, I can see their bloodshot eyes now.

And I feel as though they’re not the only thing here.

“I hear that frost wolf pelts sell for good cil,” I proclaim into the empty forest, rubbing my bare hands together. I can see my breath bellow out before me.

Growling is all I get as a response.

“Bones are used for Assesenise medication.”

Someone demounts.

“And I don’t think phoenixes piss themselves off. Unless they are severely depressed, that is.”

I hear the bow before the arrow hits, impaling itself onto a tree to my right.

“That’ll be enough,  _ Jishe _ ,” The bowman says calmly, still in the shadows, “Prey know better than to anger their predator.”

“But anger blinds, dear foe,” I tell him, pulling out the arrow out, “Anger kills. It was my undoing, a lifetime ago.”

He snorts but says nothing. At his whistle, the wolves approach, hackles raised, fangs bared and freezing breath turning the top layer of snow to ice. No collars. A risky play, or an intimidation tactic?

I passively look at the approaching wolves, dropping my hand onto my new blade.

‘Humm _ , slightly bigger than I thought… _ ’ I think, backstepping away the first wolf that leapt at me.

Ducking, the next flew right over me. The third was dodged. The fourth was rammed away by the fifth, who was accidentally impaled by a miss shot from the bowman.

Oh, wait. It was from the arrow in my hand. Oops, didn’t look if it was poisoned or not.

That one tumbles to the ground, his snowy white coat now sporting a spot of crimson. I wince at the sight.

“They say you don’t draw blood,” The bowman says from above, studying me, “That your blades are for show. Let’s see how true that is.”

I grimace, kneeling down before darting forwards. An arrow plants itself in the place that I was, the wolves leaping over and making chase.

“Someone as young as you must have so much on your shoulders.”

I tense, that split second loss is enough for a wolf to get me in the shoulder, fangs sinking in with a sickening squelch. Despite everything, an alarmed growl escapes my mouth, the wolf flinging me to his brethren.

My unwounded arm comes around and plants itself onto a cold head, safely vaulting myself over the pile of wolves. The arrow doesn’t miss, however.

“Damnit,” I pull the shaft out of my arm whilst on the run.

“You’re  _ weak, only an instrument to my survival _ ,” His voice changes, each syllable a smouldering spear. It hurts worse than both bite and bow.

“You’re dead,” I growl, “You have no right to speak.”

“ _ Oh, do I? _ ”

The world goes dark. The trees twist, the snow melts, the wolves dissolve.

Red eyes gleam from the void, dancing in my misery. My bite becomes ten times worse. The arrow becomes dust in my hand.

“ _ I live, kit. And I’m not as nice as I claim to be… _ ”

A roar of fire burns away my body, my skin, flesh, nerves and bones. To ash. To ash.

...His training wasn’t as pleasant as his personality. His memory… His memory is a  _ bitch  _ to deal with on its own.

<>

Silver awakens right after I start skinning the wolf. Needless to say, it was quite awkward, with a bunch of blood and guts on my spare shirt and pants. 

His first notion is to almost scream until he stopped himself and started hyperventilating instead. I can’t tell if it’s better or worse.

The skin is cleaned, the meat, smelling of rot and death, was tossed into the snow, beheaded. Their skin and stuffed heads sell.

“That…” Silver says as I’m cleaning my knife off. He looks pale at the sight of the wasted meat.

“A waste?” I try.

“No, it’s just…” His features contorts as he covers his mouth. “ _ Smells bad... _ .”

“Mmm,” I hum, sheathing my knife, “Well, we’re not eating that. I don’t actually know how to cook that type of meat.”

Wearing my cloak and the newer clothes I supplied, Silver looks less like a slave child and a little more ambiguous. The brown jacket lined with kirin fur is slightly too big, same with his pants. But it’s better than anything.

“Come on,” I tell him, turning around to go back to the cart, “Furnace probably has the stew going.”

Silver tails behind me, running across the thin snow in the clearing.

Peeling back the insulated curtain, I help him into the cart, lifting him up with my hands under his arms. After placing him inside, I jump up and drag myself up and over the small wall.

Furnace, hovering over Sky, watches the pot over the metal, plated fire pit, eyes tracking the small bits of meat bobbing in and out of the thick soup. Bellows is being tortured by Gold, who grabs and pulls at her mane of fur. I almost feel bad for her, but somehow cannot bring myself to save the hellhound. 

Oh, wait. She has the bowls.

Allowing Silver to crawl over to Sky, I walk over to Bellows. Gold glares at me, sinking into her fur. I ignore him, just moving close enough to pat Bellow’s wet cheek.

She gives me a pout, eyes pleading with me to free her from this nightmare. I just roll my eyes. Drama queen.

“Bowls,” I tell her, “Food is the answer to everything.”

She closes her eyes, deepens her pout before opening her mouth and cough up five steel bowls, slick with slobber. I thank her, giving a scratch behind the ears before picking up another pot.

Exiting the cart for just a second, I scoop up some snow into the pot then putting it over the fire pit as well. Furnace shots me a glare before looking down, affectionately licking Sky’s hair.

Dropping the bowls into the pot of water, I lay down on the blanketed floor. Bellows takes that as an opportunity to roll over to me, taking an angry blond with her. Her eyes shine.  _ Vengeance. _

I deserve this.

“Roxas stole your journal, by the way,” She adds smugly, pinning me down to the floorboards. “Says it’s just as bland as his storybooks. I bet he doesn’t even know how to  _ read _ !”

She yelps as soon as those words leave her mouth.

“Okay, cool,” I say, trying to drag myself out from under her, “But can you let me out so you can have food, damnit?”

“Humph,” She looks down at me, puffing her cheeks out, “Then get your little  _ gremlin _ off of -OW!”

Bellows flinches, releasing pressure off of me and allowing me to slip right out, much to her dismay.

Clambering to my knees, I look over to Bellows. She’s sticking her tongue out at me, a nasty look upon her face. I counter her nasty garbage with the bird.

I turn around before I can see her expression, dunking my bare arm into the boiling water and fetching the bowls from it. Shaking most of the water off, Bellows coughs up the ladle without my command. Also covered in slobber.

I drop it into the boiling pot without a second thought. It goes down like a heavy Titanic, just without the iceberg, and just a hell of a lot faster; sinking into the bubbling liquid like a rock.

…

Why am I making Titanic references again?

“I’m going to go pull the cart,” I decide, fishing the ladle out of the water and watching the steam drift off of it, “You two seem happy with looking after the kids.”

Furnace grunts, the noise carrying no meaning behind it as he looks down and nuzzles Sky once more, his scar smoothing out. He seems more cat then canine currently, if not for the growling sound he constantly emits.

Bellows is too...distracted to reply. Gold is too busy torturing her to do anything else or notice Silver’s disapproving look.

Putting down the ladle, I stand up and stretch my limbs, making cracking sounds as I went.

“Easy come, easy go,” I mumble, turning around to face the back of the cart, “ **Race Skill: Body Shifting** .”

The floor is ripped away from me, my spine forcing me over and gravity pulled me to the floor with a thunk in a pile of my clothes.

Before any of the children could freak, I pull the cloth off and away before swiftly leaping out the back of the cart, landing on all fours in the snow. I subconsciously increased my size when the white flurry reached my eyes, now standing ankle high in the snow.

Looking away from the ground, I move towards the front of the cart. I can hear Silver cry in outrage that he didn’t figure it out sooner, the other two just letting out bewildered cries or asking the hounds what just happened.

‘ _ Hum, siblings… _ ’

Reaching the front, I shift the leather reins around before strapping myself to the wooden cart. Slowly. Furnace has a lot more experience with things like these. Pack dog for elves, like a lot of his kind.

Making sure that all the buckles and straps were secure, I tug the cart along the bare, windswept road, rid of any snow.

This would be a long, quiet walk if all went well.

<>

 

Day six. A little late for Trackers to finally find me. Their lights dance a dance of death against hatred’s spawn. It’s just mercy that I left them alone for an hour straight but after that pot shot, someone demanded them gone.

The distant thundering of hooves is getting louder, their hearts bolder by the second. The thwip of an arrow is the last nail, the thunk of the true hit. 

I stop the cart, hearing the warning growl of Furnace from inside, and unbuckle the straps. They fall onto the ground with a rattle, setting the Trackers on edge.

Turning around, I walk into the open, the horizon sun shining into my eyes. From afar, I looked like just another wild beast in need of a good bloodbath.

“Here I thought the famed Kyuubi would be more of a challenge, not just some wild mutt!” One of the six moans, lifting a rifle up to his chest.

“I’ll say,” Another huffs, tossing her lance from hand to hand, “That poster was a lying scum. Didn’t think there were people like that in Decrav.”

The first one huffs, rolling his eyes. Turning to the ones behind him, he says, “You four, inspect the cart.”

Stiffening, the back four nod, reluctantly demounting and slowly approaching the caravan. I can already feel Furnace pad up to the side of the curtain in response, energy flaring with annoyance.

“Now you…” Rifleman says, adjusting his aim again.

**Bang**

“I propose you try again. Your aim may be getting rusty.”

“Wha-”

In one bound, my paw hand-like covers his mouth and pulls him off the back of his horse.

“High Vani!” The female lancer curses, trying to ease her spooked horse. The captain’s steed was long gone, ‘U’ shaped hoofprints sprinting away from my position.

“G-get off, mutt!” 

“Right, you’re here,” I say closing in on his throat, my words lacking so much emotion it surprises even myself.

Focusing in on the grunting man’s eyes, I can see my reflection, red eyes piercing. I smell this man’s fear. Nothing matters, just this fear and hate I smell.

It’s _ intoxicating _ . The anxiety, the pressurized hate and malice. It’s  **wondrous. Potential in it’s finest.**

“MASTER!”

I snap out of my episode, fangs pressing against the poor man’s neck. Seeing my uncertainty, the man throws me off of him with a grunt, scrambling to his feet sprinting away at top speed. The others are long gone, the killing intent hanging in the air is stifling even for me.

“Mi-mister Fury?” Sky’s voice is choked, like he was crying, “W-what’s happening.”

“Master had…” Furnace’s voice hitches, uncertainty plages him, “A… breakdown. Don’t worry, as long as you’re not afraid of him he won’t attack you.”

“I’m not afraid,” Sky clarifies, voice shaking but full of conviction, “I’m worried.”

Bellows hops out the back of the cart, pressing her cheeks against mine. She licks me, tears welling up in her eyes but I know it’s from me.

“I-s-sorry,” I stutter, a shattered bottle of guilt leaking in my chest, “D-d-did I…?”

She shakes her head sadly, gold eyes dim, “They’re fine. You’re the one who’s crying.”

<>

Furnace and Bellows ended up pulling the cart for the rest of the day, leaving me alone in a cart full of confused children that stank of distress. A lukewarm cup is in my hands, slowly cooling as I continuously refuse to taste it. 

Wallowing in guilt, as they say. Pitiful really, with my dry tears and such. Sky won’t let go, however, clinging to my waist like a tether to this realm.

I don’t know how to react to physical affection. Dogs are one thing, but this is different.

Gold and Silver sit to my right, huddled together in the corner. They’re the ones that stink of fear, and I find my doing jack for them.

“Are you okay now, mister Kura?” Sky asks voice muffled from the blankets that I am wrapped in.

I look down, the kid’s blue eye watery with tears, and drop a hand on his head.

“No,” I tell him in cracked Common, messing up his hair in the meantime, “Just...give me a little more time, Sky.”

He mutters something illegible, planting his face back into the blanket before falling asleep. If he thought anything of the nickname, he don’t say, simply laying there in all his childish innocence.

My hand slides off of his head as I lean back on the wood boards. My left-hand shifts around in tandem with my boredom.

I finally take a drink from the water, now barely warm. It goes down without a hitch.

<>

When I awake, I’m surrounded by floating bulbs of blue chakra and the noise of the rolling wheels. Three kids lay around me of varying distances, curled up and suffering from mild exhaustion. 

I tap the closest floating Lantern, watching it wiggle in midair and bounce away from me. Self-sustaining; something I wasn’t expecting from kids their age. The cart is filled with these orbs, illuminating the interior with purple light.

They’re a curious bunch.

(Maybe I’m too jaded to see through my own barrier.)

<>

“I didn’t know you could draw,” Silver quips the next day, peering over my shoulder as I practiced my Branding.

I’m sitting here, revelling in the beauty of a perfect spiral of ink.  _ Damn, it’s good _ .

“Kurama?”

“A-oh, yeah, sure,” I wave off, not glancing up at him as I dip my brush in the ink again, “It’s not art.”

“But you just said it was,” He reflects, sounding a tad confused.

“Well, that’s what happens when I’m tired, working and talking to someone at the same time,” I tell him, mumbling as I scratch down the rest of the Brand, “Mind’s not quite here.”

He hums in acknowledgment, shifting uncomfortably close to watch. His eyes flick momentarily to Gold and Sky, the two playing a round of Go Fish. Gold is cheating by the looks of it.

“Then what  _ are _ you doing?” Silver asks as I set down the wooden board I was using as a clipboard.

“Practicing,” I reply. I’m making him  _ earn _ this answer after all that digging he’s been trying to do. Terrible manipulation skills overall.

He grumbles, annoyed, “Well it’s not art.”

“Score,” I grin, looking up at his scowling face. He huffs, leaning away from me as I attempt to poke his nose.

“HA!” Gold suddenly shouts, throwing down two cards and standing up triumphantly, pointing at an alarmed Sky, “I WIN!”

“Gold!” I turn to him, “Take it a notch down.”

He glares at me before plopping back down with a huff and pout. Sky scratches the back of his head with a clueless smile on his face. They start cleaning up the scattered cards, gathering them into a stack.

I return my gaze to Silver, his face betraying curiosity he desperately tries to hide.

After a little internal debate, I pull out another piece of paper.

“I guess I’ll show you some simpler ones,” I sigh, wondering why I’m doing this again as he hesitantly sits beside me. I pick up my brush, creating a triangle as he watches intently.

They’re still scared, but less so.

(I don’t feel like I deserve this...Do I?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....I have nothing to say for myself.


	5. Tyger Fire, Phoenix Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has come to visit me! How quaint, how rare it is now.

#  Chapter 4

 

Howling god of loneliness made,

A corpse of dark decaying clay.

Screaming lord of scars hold,

A pyre of life that went untold.

Quiet queen of flowing blood,

Treads through trampled mud.

~A wandering traveller

 

Fortune favours the bold,

But listen to not what you are told.

So see the world revolving,

Upon a platter of pure gold.

=A jaded soldier

<>

“Fix your foot. You can’t strike with a sloppy stance like that,” I scold, correcting Silver’s stance with a stick, “Daggers rely on quick thinking to use. Your stance, reflexes and problem solving are the only way you’ll win a fight. Now, try again.”

We’ve already figured out his preferred stance; the dagger over his head and hand outstretched. All I have to do is create a stance that worked and varying styles and ways to break through defences.

He starts off by stabbing at my chest, which I easily dodge. He changes the direction of his swipe to follow me. I parry it with my hand and grab on to him, placing my other hand on his chest and disarming him.

“You overreached,” I say, passing back the blunt blade. He takes it back with a huff and a determined look that says ‘I’ll beat you one day’.

“ **Skill: Rush!** ” Gold shouts for the umpteenth time, only to fall flat on his butt again.

“You’re supposed to use that with a sword, Roxas!” I hiss, walking over and picking him off the ground, “So practice with a stick first.”

“I don’t need a stick! I can do this on my own!” He counters, struggling against my hold on his hood.

“You lack balance without a weight in your hands when using Rush. At least try,” I tell him before placing him down on the ground.

Gold huffs, muttering something under his breath before trying Rush again. He’s stubborn to a fault and just as brain dead as my old team.

Sky sits idly by, flipping through my old sealing booklet. He hasn’t tried any of them, only reading through the interesting ones.

Silver makes a strike while I was distracted, only for him to miss. 

“Good job,” I praise him, “You’re catching on.”

While his stature remains unchanged, his eyes light up with pride at the words.

“ **Skill: Rush!** Ow!”

“Try Class Skill Rush, Gold!” I shout back at him, having enough of his antics.

“Fine!” Gold shouts back, standing back up definitely, “ **Class Skill: Rush!** ” 

The stick he is attacking snaps in half, but not as cleanly as a person with a mastery of the skill. Splinters fly and an audible crack of breaking wood is heard.

“Again,” I tell him, picking another, thicker stick off the ground and planting it into the dirt.

He huffs, puffing his chest out as he continues to beat down on the new stick.

I parry another well placed strike from Silver before climbing back into the cart. Dusk was falling, and with the sky clear, it painted the clouds shades of orange, red and purple twilight. A shrill bird cry can be heard in the distance, but that was not my problem to deal with. Not until someone asks deliberately.

‘ _ Five days before we arrive. Feels like the world’s moved on from the war… _ ’

“Boo!”

“Ack-Hell-what-!?” I choke, feeling large paws and a furry chest close around me.

“Hehehe!” Bellows giggles, giving my scaly cheek an affectionate lick, “I gotcha!”

“Yes, you did,” I say dryly, pushing her face away and wiping off the slobber, “Where’s Furnace.”

“Well, mister mopy is at the front!” She says cheerfully.

“Has he not gotten over the whole deer fiasco?”

“Nope! He indeed has not!”

“...I’ll just wait.”

“Mmhm!”

Day nine and no one dares to cross the Kyuubi for fear of their lives.

<>

“Eh, Kura what are you writing?” Sora asks, breathing on my shoulder.

“Stuff,” I answer, scribbling some words down before moving to the next line.

“What stuff?”

Insistent brat.

“Poetry stuff,” I grind out.

“Hey, isn’t this yours too?” He had stopped breathing over my shoulder, having picked up an old journal of mine, “Wow, mister Kura. You’re pretty good!”

‘ _ Gee, thanks _ ,’ I think, stopping in the middle of a letter to give him a side-eyed glance.

Inside the cart is smoke flavoured from the burning wood, the leftover smell of venison lingering in the air. A pile of blankets lay in the corner, courtesy of Gold’s hoarding habits. It drives the other two to either pile onto me or one of the hounds.

Usually me because of my body heat.

“Hey...Kura..?”

“Hmm?”

“...”

“What’s wrong?” I flip to the next page.

“...Are you going to leave us in the next town?”

“Yes. I have...people there I trust. Plus,” I turned around and poke him on the forehead, “They don’t care about lineage.”

He offers me a confused look, the colour of blue in his eyes swirling to understand. I snort. Children can be fun to mess with.

“But yes, I will be leaving you three there,” I tell him with a serious tone, “It’s not safe being around a merc like me.”

‘ _ The penalty is death. Funnily enough, it just can’t get ahold of me. _ ’

<>

It’s dawn. I can tell by the golden light leaking through the bottom of the back curtains. The fire had been left unattended as nothing but glowing embers were left in the steel pit.

Gold is on his blanket pile, Silver huddled around the remnants of the fire and Sky. Sky had clung to my leg like a bloody koala. Any attempt to peel him off had resulted in failure, so I’ve stopped trying.

We would arrive at the next town by tomorrow night, the thought of it making a part of me twists with displeasure.

I sigh, shoving the pauldron away from me and right to the edge of the cart. I sit up, placing some unclaimed blankets behind me and leaned back against the wooden sideboards.

Sky continues to sleep, his grasp on my leg growing slightly tighter after my minute movements. I give him a pat on the shoulder so he would loosen his hold and not cut off the blood supply to my lower leg.

Picking up one of the scattered journals on the ground and a pencil p, I start creating another poem.

Feeling the individual bumps in the road, hearing the howling gale-force winds and tasting the dryness in the air, I wait until around the time the sky fills up with bright blue. The grey clouds had gone but I have no doubt they would return too quickly for my liking.

Scratching my throat with the pencil momentarily, I start on the poem. The almost dead embers crackle methodically in the silence.

_ Tiger ablaze in stolen light, _

_ Phoenix sparkling in forbidden blight. _

_ A bird, a cat and a dragon in flight, _

_ All in a bottle of suppression and right. _

~Kurama

<>

“Come on, Kura! Teach us a bit more before we arrive!” Sky begs, throwing his arms around desperately.

“Me leaving isn’t the end of the world, Sky,” I say, flicking his forehead so he’ll get off my lap.

Silver tries to hide his disappointment, but the scowl on his face is not so hard to miss. Gold is in denial, sleeping in late in his pile of blankets. The air is thick with displeasure, but there is nothing I can do about it.

I sigh, watching Sky get berated by my tail, the tufted tip whacking him lightly on the nose. He sneezing in retaliation.

“Please, Kura?” He asks again, pushing away my tail and pinning it to the floor, “Just one more!”

“One more?” I reiterate.

“One more, I promise!” He says, putting his hands onto my knee to get closer to my face.

“Hm. Alright then,” I agree, “But I’m going to show it once and only once, got it?”

“Mm!”

Silver quietly moves to my side whilst Gold peeks out from underneath his horde. They look hopeful, something that I cannot bear for this world to take away.

“How about a Lightning Technique this time? One called Jumping Spark?”

Said spark jumps from my outstretched hands, bounces off the wooden ground and hits Gold on the nose.

Silver snorts and Sky lets out a carefree laugh. Gold comes out of hiding to shout at his brother, his rage so furious it burns like magma in a volcano’s core.

I sometimes wonder what type of dragon he would be. Maybe a royal halfbreed of rock and fire or something that burns by passing through you. Sky would be of air and energy, a breezing wind. Silver is as fleeting as a shadow but still grounded.

I flick another spark his way, only for him to dodge it and lunge at me. He wrestles me to the ground, his face planted into my shirt so the others can’t see the tears. I guess he cares more than he lets on.

I pat him on the back as the other two try to shock each other with sparks of chakra.

They’ll be gone by tonight. 

(A still tender part of me weeps. They’re the only thing tying me to this world. They’re the only thing left.)

<>

I knock twice on the oaken door, the light inside smothered by the thick curtains closed over the window. It’s dusk and the kids have already knocked themselves out by minor chakra exhaustion. Furnace was a real mess when it happened having never experienced it.

(Lord knows that sensei ran me into the ground.)

Bellows waits impatiently in the snow, pacing around in it like the world was ending. For her, it might as well be.

“Do we have to leave them?” She whines, her tail slapping against the snow, making a crunching sound as it goes.

“Yes,” I answer certainly, “I refuse to put their lives in mortal danger. They have too little experience with the world to survive around me.”

She lets out a pitiful whine but otherwise accepts my explanation.

A lady opens the door, short with brown dreads and sharp eyes. She stands slightly above me; I have to tilt my head upwards to meet her eyes.

“Martha, I have a favour to ask.” The woman smiles warmly at my request, placing a hand on my unarmoured shoulder in comfort.

“Anything Kurama.”

I can feel the warmth of the fireplace and the mist of a bundle of orphans. I think they’ll like it here.

I dip my head, muttering quietly, “Thank you.”

 

<>

We sold the cart and most of the blankets, leaving the ones that lingered with the scent of the boys for Bellows’ sake and her sake alone. I rolled them up and secured them to Furnace’s back before hopping on. The extra cil is dropped into another satchel and we make our way to the town’s guild lodge.

It’s morning but the clouds obscure the sky and the biting winds don’t make it much better. One or two people wad through the snow, their winter clothing consisting of nothing but thin linen and uninsulated cotton layers. 

They’re all human. Judging eyes all focus on me and my hounds. Fear, wariness and uncertainty dwell in their eyes.

Furnace scoffs. The whole town ripples.

Bellows and Furnace follow me into the building; a long one-story lodge made of wood logs and a stone foundation. There’s two chimneys for two fireplaces, both heaving smoke from the burnt fuel.

I push the door open and walk inside.

Some people gasp while others turn their head to take a look. 

I through my hood up and wander into the middle of the room. There’s a summoning table and I order a small glass of water. It pops into existence with a flourish of light particles, common for most guild lodgings.

Then whispering starts. The hushed voice they think I cannot hear. It’s the human travellers and adventurers, that I can tell. It’s always humans and their xenophobic ways.

“Please don’t break your glass here, master,” Furnace whispers. I release my tight grip and take a sip of the cold water.

“Sorry,” I mutter back to him. He accepts it.

“Humph. I’ll go rent the room if you’re going to be like this,” He sighs, standing back up and walking to the counter. His big opposing figure makes the clerk shutter in his sandals.

I quirk my brow but say nothing, instead of turning to Bellows.

“My bandage and cloth case,” I ask her. She dutifully spits it out with minimal saliva.

I start changing the bandages on my feet, unwinding the fabric that covers almost everything below my knees. It’s wet and in tatters and covered in crusted blood and washed dirt.

I toss away the old bandages and open the dried metal case, taking out a fresh roll of gauze. I’m in the middle of rewrapping when someone approaches me.

“I was wondering when the famed ‘Kyuubi no Yoko’ would arrive,” A matter of fact voice says, footsteps leading to my spot on the leather couch.

“And you would be?” I finish one leg and looked up. A twinge of regret follows.

“Yusei,” He says, introducing himself, “There’s something I would like you to take care of.”

Furnace looks back, seeing the commotion and attempts to return to my side. I hold up a hand for him to return.

“Why should I?” I ask, saying it like a statement, “I just got here.”

“We’re offering you half a million cil for this, Kurama.”

I narrow my eyes.

“Where did you learn that name.”

“Martha told me. She’s the one that announced your arrival.”

“Fine. What’s the job,” I lean against my open hand propped up against my knee.

“The Ice Phoenix.”

“I assume I’m going to receive the dead corpse?”

“No, your job is to simply kill it and end this winter.”

“Then I request one full million if it is to land in your hands. The Phoenix itself is worth less than half a million, Fudo. I implore that you reconsider.”

He seems surprised that I know his surname but forges on regardless.

“Fine. But at least leave a few feathers.”

I unwind a length of gauze.

“Very well. I’ll see this through, Fudo. I hope you have the cash to pay. I’ve had clients attempt to take my life after a job.”

He offers me an identification crystal that glows blue in the fire and magic lights. I take it and watch the man leave.

<>

The night passes in our rented room. Then we are given a ride to the mountain’s base. A lone abandoned mine sits there, the wood rotting away as the tunnel slowly collapses over time.

We get off the snow cart in silence and in silence we watch it go. Nothing but the whistling winds that sing through the pine branches.

I mount Furnace.

“Let’s go.”

He leaps without a warning, bounding up the craggy cliffs and steep slopes. The snow falls around his paws and manifested creatures made of excess magic appear. A barroth gets its teeth removed after an attempted assault.

At noon we stop at a cave, the two hounds heaving large breaths in is lacking environment.

I stand at the edge of the cave, watching the snowfall and clump onto the ground.

Nothing eventful other then the distant sound of the screech of the phoenix is heard that day. Ration bars and consumed and wood is wasted. Time moves on and so do we.

“Hey, Furnace,” I hear Bellows whisper, “Who named you?”

He stiffens under me, the muscles bunching under the fur. I shift and he relaxes.

“It’s from my previous master. Her name was Lilum, an elven warrior...She’s dead now.”

“Oh…sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s an old wound and I have to get over it soon.”

I miss the rest of their conversation, dreaming about the time I picked an old and grizzled hound off a rotting, bloodstained battlefield.

<>

“Are you sure Furnace?” I ask, holding his saddle, “I was going to make the rest of the way on foot. It doesn’t-”

“Of course it does!” He interjects, hopping up and putting his forelegs onto my shoulders, “I’d rather be dead than be unable to protect you!”

“I honestly don’t think you’ll be much help is all. This mountain is tall and the air is getting thinner. Creatures like you and Bellows don’t do well in this environment, seeing how cold it is.”

The howling winds reiterate my explanation.

“You could end up as dead weight,” I say, shrugging his paws off my shoulders, “And I wouldn’t want that.”

He stays silent as I take the essential items out of the pouch and put them into a backpack. Bellows stays worried and Furnace stays regretful.

“There are magic sources deeper into the cave you can feed on for now,” I inform them, “Those should last a few days.”

Furnace nods dutifully as I leave the cave and start my ascent. Nothing but cold greys and whites on this mountain. 

Crows fly. Some people say they are my associated animal as well as the red fox. I suppose it is appropriate, with me causing and being around so much death.

Hours pass.

A lone feather drifts from the clouds, shimmering in magic energy gathered from the world.

I grit my teeth.

If there is one thing phoenixes of any kind are known for, it will be that most of its mass is made up of crystalized chakra, magic or whatever it is called in a region. It’s not pure, however, and that’s why it sells for so little. Only the pure crystal can fetch a hefty price.

I unsheath my blade and lift it just as steel grade talons strike its flat side. My footing is off, my toes grasping whatever hard surface lies beneath the snow.

Another known fact; they love the taste of non-human, sentient creature blood.

I twist the blade out of its grasp before flipping backwards to give myself space. The single-edged blade is unsheathed, just in time to catch another angry assault.

A piece of its claw is chopped off, the blacktip dropping into the snow. I duck, the bird falling down the slope from the pent up kinetic energy, trying its hardest to recover. 

I try and find a solid patch of ground to stand on, my talons only finding ice under the snow. Raising my blade, I braced for impact as the bird did a three-sixty and flew against the current of cold air. Unsurprisingly, it opened its mouth and bit down on the sword, angrily thrashing it around as its talons closed around my sword arm and the tip of the blade.

Funneling all my chakra into the handle, it superheats the sword, burning the bird off of its metal petch. It flies off with its talons still around my arm, pulling me into the air as well.

“I’m. Not. Food!” I howl, outraged as I slipped my arm out of its claws, “Stupid bird!”

Then my head met stone, pain shooting up my horns. Something warm flows down the back of my head and into my shirt. My head falls to the side. I can’t feel my legs anymore.

Blood bubbles up my throat. My ribs are broken. Blood sleeps through my shirt.

‘ _ Pity is saved for the weak, the one that missed an opportunity of a lifetime, the young...and me. _ ’

<>

I sit in a black void, playing chess with a smokey figure opposite to me. We’ve been playing for eternity now, the game often ending in their favour before switching to a different game.

I move my knight. They move their pawn.

“How long are we to play this game?” I ask. I never opened my mouth.

“Until the end of time,” They slyly answer.

We finish the game of chess with me in checkmate.

Their eyes open revealing a whirlwind of white and blue.

“Until you are welcome to sweet oblivion.”

I’m left with the impression of a grin that leaves the world an acidic white.

<>

A blur of grey greets me, my claws wrapped around a tender neck. I smell three people in my vicinity, one of which carry a metallic scent. No. It was blood. Blood mixed with chakra. The scent of my blood hung in the air like a noose on a ceiling beam.

A blade is then pointed at my throat, the tip hovering next to my shoulder covered by my armour.

I instinctively shrug the blade away from my throat, turning around and grabbing the dull side to rip it from the hands of my assailant. The blade comes free easily and I flip the blade so I can grab the hilt.

“ _ I suggest cleaning the crust off your eyes. _ ”

I stop. The accent.

“Fuck!” I hiss, flipping the blade into a backhand and stabbing it into the hard stone.

“ _ None of you dare move, _ ” I growl, feeling for the wall before leading myself to the other figure. She whimpers, pristine magic flowing off her wounds.

An angel, one that was clipped recently.

I slowly put a hand out, and feel for her face. She whimpers but doesn’t move, allowing me to feel her Brand. A quick surge of energy breaks it, immediately her name spilling from her mouth.

“My name is Kairi. I’m from the stars.”

She happily wipes away the frost from my eyes, a tearful expression on her face.

<>

I offer them two days worth of ration bars and use up half my chakra to offer them warmth. Kairi had fallen asleep in my shedded shirt and the other two were wrapped in my cloak.

“ _ Why did you save us? _ ” The boy asks, glasses too large framing his face.

“ _ I’m soft, _ ” I admit, absentmindedly setting a piece of wood on fire.

“ _ Alright." _  He says, unconvinced,  _ "Where are we? _ ”

“Cromodia,” He looks vividly confused, raising a hand to his chin. He looks too thoughtful for his own good, too mature to live in this world. They would gut him of his genius here, and leave a corpse behind.

I look at the girl. Her too. She wouldn't last a day on her own, even if I lead them off of the mountain. Their bloodhounds would zero in on them all the same.

“ _ Then where are you from? _ ” I ask in return, placing the wood down as it provides warmth.

“ _ Japan _ .”

I peel off a molting scale to harshly, taking off the root as well. The girl narrows her eyes but says nothing. It’s the boy who speaks up. Too daring.

“ _ You know where that is. Who are you? What are you!? _ ” The last part comes out as a demand, so I give it.

“ _ Kurama. I’m a mercenary, _ ” I tell them, flicking away the scale and pulling out a scuffed journal that’s barely holding itself together.

“ _ But that’s the name- _ ”

“ _ Yes, I am fully aware that it is of a legendary fox in a manga, _ ” I cut him off, a snarling playing at my lips uncertainly, “ _ Like I said; get used to it. There are people that look and are worse than me. _ ”

He grits his teeth, reprimed. The girl turns her head away.

The conversation is dropped. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants to even know, the crash is from a twelve-story height and the fall tore his horns right out of his head.  
> Yes, he did die.  
> There's something else implied there too, but I'm not going to speak of it. This story is very, very dark sometimes.  
> Also. I added ANOTHER FUKIN FANDOM. my lIFE IS A LIE

**Author's Note:**

> WELCOME TO TRASH TOWN, WHERE IDEAS GO TO DIE  
> Seriously though, this used to be something else. Something as in a Reincarnate as a Slime self insert that got way too out of hand and has spawned all this random shit. Oh, wait, this is my first fanfic on AO3. THIS THING HAS A SPREADSHEET DEDICATED TO IT!!! IT HAS SIX SECTIONS AND COUNTING. WHY AM I LIKE THIS??? OH LOOK, MY DEPRESSION LEAKED INTO THE STORY, OOPS. THERE'S 12 PLUS FANDOMS IN THIS THING, EVEN MORE CHARACTERS FROM SAID FANDOMS. I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IM DOING. WHAT HAVE I MADE.  
> So, uh, yeah. Have some garbage poems with a side of absolutely hideous storytelling based mostly around fluff and angst. But if you're into that stuff, be prepared for me to butcher the hell of out it.  
> zero self-esteem, GO!  
> ~Some scatterbrained idiot who doesn't know what they created until 3 chapters in  
> P.s. don't mistake this for me looking for pity. I'm just being stupid and weird on the internet. So, just laugh at me because I'm utterly hopeless.


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